


Halloween-on-Christmas

by sunsetmog



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Community: bandomstuffsit, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Pete throws a Halloween-on-Christmas party, Brendon and his roommates need to put the Grease 2 DVD away, and Brendon tries to seduce Spencer while dressed as a pumpkin (a college AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halloween-on-Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **myficjournal** for bandomstuffsit 2012, and originally posted [here](http://bandomstuffsit.livejournal.com/48706.html).

"Hey," Spencer says, as soon as Brendon manages to stab the green answer button on his phone. "Do you want to go to Pete's party together? I could come by your place later."

Brendon blinks at his alarm clock. He's pretty sure that it says six-thirty in bright red letters. "Um," he says. "It's the middle of the night."

"Not if you have an eight am class," Spencer points out. He still sounds way too chirpy for six fucking thirty in the morning. 

Brendon hates morning people. "I don't have to be awake until at least ten. This is not ten. This is the middle of the night. Next time I see you, I think I might have to kill you."

"Do you want to go to Pete's party with me or not?"

"Um," Brendon manages, since approximately every single person on campus knows about Brendon's epic, monumental crush on Spencer, and has since about the second week of their freshman year. His roommates spend, on average, about ninety-three percent of any day teasing him about it. "Like a, um—" he tails off. He's pretty sure that Spencer feels at least partially the same about him too, but it's been over two years now, and neither of them have ever made even the slightest hint of a move. It's getting to the point where it's less of an elephant in the room and more of a giant fucking neon sign with an arrow pointing at the two of them that says DUMBASSES in bright flashing lights. 

In fact, he's pretty sure that his roommates have actually made that sign and hidden it down the back of the couch. Shane and Dallon have precisely no qualms about embarrassing Brendon whenever possible. He hates them. They're his best friends.

"Like a, um, yes," Spencer says, sounding relatively patient for someone who's having to deal with Brendon at six thirty in the morning. "Or not if you don't want. Have you got an outfit yet?"

"Yes," Brendon says, thinking about the bag hanging on the back of his door, and how good he'd felt when he'd seen his outfit in the clearance bin at the store at the beginning of November, just after Pete had announced his plans for a Halloween-on-Christmas party. Everyone had agreed it was a _genius_ idea, especially when Halloween outfits had started hitting the clearance rails. "Um, tonight."

"Should I come by? Pick you up?"

"Sure," Brendon says, in what he hopes is his least squeaky voice. "Yeah, cool."

"Awesome," Spencer says. "I'll see you later. Okay, got to go, I have to go the library before class. Bye!"

It's six thirty in the _morning_. Brendon has less than zero clue what just happened, but somewhere in his sleep-addled brain he's pretty sure Spencer just asked him out on a date. 

"Fuck, _yeah_ ," Brendon says, fist-pumping in celebration. Singing the Grease 2 classic _Score Tonight_ as he gets out of bed is probably only one of a multitude of reasons Spencer Smith finds him hot, and just one reason of many why his roommates love him.

_I'm your kingpin, honey, and I'm getting in gear._

—//—

Brendon shares his place with his best friend Shane and this guy called Dallon, who Brendon had met when he'd answered the ad Brendon and Shane had placed looking for a roommate at the beginning of the year. Dallon has turned out to be approximately the most awesome person in college, Shane and Spencer aside. He's also getting _married_ , something Brendon finds alternately super cool and absolutely fucking terrifying. So far today Brendon's had to help pick tie colors for the groomsmen, and taste six different types of home-baked cupcakes to find the perfect alternative to wedding cake. In return, he's put up with seven hours of relentless teasing about finally going on a date with Spencer Smith. 

In the end, Brendon had hidden Dallon's cell phone in the fridge and changed the password to Shane's computer, both of which they deserved after spending a whole thirty minutes drawing Brendon and Spencer k-i-s-s-i-n-g in a tree on the white board in the kitchen. They'd used every single color in the multipack of whiteboard markers, even the one that looked like vomit, and created a rainbow of joy over the top of their drawing of a tree. 

Brendon is secretly planning on stealing that whiteboard and saving the picture forever.

Anyway, after all the wedding planning, Brendon can't help but feel a sense of relief that he left religion behind at seventeen, and that he doesn't have to worry about having to get married just so that he can have sex. If Spencer wants to have sex with Brendon, he definitely doesn't have to wait to put a ring on Brendon's finger. 

Plus, all the wedding preparations have meant that he's super late getting himself ready for Pete's party, so when Spencer calls to say he's outside, Brendon is still putting the finishing touches to his pre-party entertainment, and doing the Single Ladies dance in the kitchen. 

"I'm outside. Come out, douchenozzle."

"You come in, dickhead." Brendon rests the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he straightens up the plates and glasses on the counter. "I'm making Halloween cocktails. My mom used to make them for us when we were little. The non-alcoholic versions, anyway. I've put some alcohol in these."

"You know it's not Halloween, right?"

"This is a Halloween party, shut up. Halloween's cool enough to celebrate twice." Pete's cool enough to celebrate Halloween twice, anyway. He's in his senior year, a Poli-Sci major who seems to devote his time equally to partying and talking about politics. Brendon had met him at a show at some point during freshman year, and somehow they'd spent the night together before waking up as friends. It was Brendon's first one-night stand, and the measure that every subsequent one would have to live up to. He figures that Spencer is probably up to the challenge of equaling it, although maybe not of making and selling his own merch afterwards to make a profit. Brendon had left after his one-night stand wearing one of Pete's Clan hoodies. He still has it. 

"Everyone else on campus is going to be dressed up as sexy Santa helpers like Lindsay Lohan in Mean Girls, and we're going to be dressed like we forgot it's December."

Brendon spends a quality moment imagining Spencer dressed up in the outfit the girls wear to sing Jingle Bell Rock in Mean Girls, including the tiny mini skirt and the Santa hat. It's surprisingly hot. "Stop complaining and come inside. There's pre-party entertainment."

"Um," Spencer says. 

Brendon—who has desperately been trying not to think _is this it, is tonight going to be the night, fuck,_ all day long—tries not to gives up hope. "You don't have to, it's okay." He's lined up grape flavored drinks on the edge of the kitchen counter, just like his mom used to do when he was little, but he can just put them in the fridge and drink them by himself, later. Maybe he was wrong and tonight isn't a date after all.

"Um," Spencer says again. "I'm kind of wearing a wedding dress?" 

There's a moment where neither of them say anything. 

"Oh. That's kind of—" Brendon clears his throat, and doesn't say, _hot¸_ although he desperately wants to. "What are you dressed as?"

"Bride of Frankenstein. Fucking tired of green make up, though. My face looks really weird. Have you ever tried to paint a beard green? No? It's harder than you'd think." 

"So," Brendon says, after a pause where he tries and fails to stop thinking about Spencer in a dress. The same Spencer that he's had a crush on since they ended up sitting together in that Intro to American Literature class in freshman year, and who he's spent countless drunken evenings imagining making out with, much to the amusement of his friends. He thinks they actually have a club, Society for the Mocking of Brendon About His Ridiculous Crush on Spencer Smith. He's seen the membership card in Shane's wallet. It's only surprising that they haven't given Spencer honorary membership, since it's not like Brendon's kept his crush a secret. That said, he's almost certain Spencer feels just the same about him, although potentially with less late night drunken monologues about the quality of his beard. "I guess you should come inside and show me your dress. I've made ice cubes shaped like bats."

"Awesome. Okay. What are you dressed up as?" 

"Come inside and find out," Brendon says. Anticipation and excitement fizz up and down his spine. He's only glad he pushed Shane and Dallon out of the door an hour ago, forcing them to go to the party early so that he could have the apartment to himself. He's the best roommate, honestly. They wanted to help with the party set up anyway, he's sure.

"Yeah?" Spencer says. "Okay. Cool. Be right in."

—//—

Brendon is dressed as a pumpkin. 

"You're a pumpkin."

"A _slutty_ pumpkin," Brendon corrects him, still posing in the kitchen doorway. "It says so on the label."

Spencer doesn't say anything to that, and Brendon hopes that it's not because he looks too ridiculous. He _does_ look ridiculous, but he's hoping Spencer thinks it's cute too. He's bare-legged, even though it's December, apart from a pair of socks with bats on the side, and his much-loved, extremely battered Converse. He's wearing an all in one pumpkin outfit from the women's section, complete with orange hot-pants and some very, very odd cut out sections which Brendon supposes is what is supposed to make it special. There is also a little orange hat with a green stem which tops the outfit off perfectly, and if it wasn't for the bizarre padding that makes him look a little bit like an orange, Brendon would say he looked hot. 

Hopefully, anyway. It's the stupidest outfit he's ever worn. Wooing is a complicated business, especially when Spencer Smith is the objective. Spencer is secretly the weirdest dude Brendon's ever come across. He once told Brendon he wanted to be the fourth member of TLC, and that he dreamed of being carried around campus in a giant Baby Bjorn while being fed M&Ms, which are both life goals that Brendon can get behind. 

Anyway, Spencer is wearing a full-length wedding dress and has painted his beard green, and has surgical scars drawn on his face with eye liner pencil, so Spencer can hardly talk about looking ridiculous. 

Brendon has made pre-party snacks, which include cookies shaped like cats, tiny cupcakes covered in white frosting, and little ghosts made of marshmallows. He's laid them all out on the counters in the kitchen, next to his Halloween themed cocktails. They're all covered in fake spider webs, which he's had for years and has been saving for a special occasion. 

"This is pretty awesome," Spencer says, not looking at the food. He's clearly trying—and failing—not to stare at the weird cut outs on the sides of Brendon's pumpkin hot pants, which Brendon knows don't do anything to suggest that he's wearing underwear.

He isn't, by the way. As seduction techniques go, this is something of a first for him. 

"Right?" Brendon says, forcing himself to stare at nothing but Spencer's face, because Spencer is wearing an eighties-style meringue of a wedding dress, which doesn't fit him properly so hasn't been laced up at the back. His face is less green and more of an apple tint, which Brendon can't help but grin at. "I thought that we should probably eat something before we hit the cocktails. And I don't know about you, but I plan on drinking all of Pete's beer tonight." _And then making out with you until morning_. He doesn't add the last part. 

"I like the way you think," Spencer says, and at some point tonight the tension between them really does have to come to a head, because Brendon has decided that he's going to make his move tonight, regardless of whether this is an actual date or not. He has to know one way or the other if he's got a chance with Spencer, and now that Spencer's shown up in a dress, Brendon is even more certain that they're MFEO. They've been friends for the whole time Brendon's been at college, and the past few weeks have included them graduating to staring at each other and grinning a lot, much to the amusement of everyone they both know. And complete strangers, probably, since Brendon had been too busy staring at Spencer last week and had walked straight, smack-bang, into a pillar in the library. 

Anyway, he _is_ dressed as a pumpkin, and Spencer _does_ look hot in the most ridiculous dress Brendon's ever seen. It only seems right that tonight be the night he makes his move. 

Spencer has powdered sugar on his lip from the cookies, and Brendon can't help but stare at it. He doesn't know what to do, because it's too early for seduction, and he hasn't drunk enough yet, so when he finds himself holding his hand out to touch—he can't do it. He knows that this would be it, this would be the moment, and he'd like to be quite drunk in case it all goes wrong. Or even more drunk in case it all goes right, since Brendon likes his bravado to come with a rum-based edge, and seducing Spencer requires switching the bravado right up to eleven. "You've got—" he says instead, and waves. "Sugar."

Spencer just licks his lips. "Yeah. I'm going to leave my car at Pete's tonight. Or I could leave it here if we're going to have the cocktails. I've got Jell-O shots in the car to take with us."

"Awesome," Brendon says, trying not to picture doing a Jell-O shot off Spencer's stomach. He has a lot of feelings, okay, and today he's had a lot of sugar, and it's possible he also had a pretty large glass of his Halloween-on-Christmas cocktail before answering the door to Spencer too. "Have a marshmallow ghost."

Spencer leans in to bite it right from Brendon's fingertips, and Brendon swallows back a helpless giggle, because Spencer wouldn't do that if he wasn't planning on kissing Brendon later on. 

Especially when Spencer looks up at him at winks.

 _Oh god_ , Brendon thinks. _Yes, yes, yes_. 

—//—

Brendon bugs Spencer to let him pick the music for the ride over to Pete's place, and he scrolls through Spencer's iPod at the same time as balancing a jug full of Halloween-on-Christmas cocktail on his lap with a bag full of cookies and marshmallow ghosts. He picks Journey, scrolling down to Don't Stop Believin' as Spencer pulls out into the street. 

They both end up singing along the whole way to Pete's, Brendon with his stupid Halloween socks pulled up as high as they'll go against the December cold. He can't help but sneak glances at Spencer as they drive, his poorly applied green face paint and the shit ton of black eyeliner fake stitches drawn on his face. Excitement and anticipation flip-flop in his chest, and to calm his nerves he does two Jell-O shots as they pull up to Pete's, holding two out for Spencer as he turns off the engine. 

"Catch up," he says, trying not to stare at Spencer's mouth. 

Spencer knocks them back, one after the other, throat bared. 

He meets Brendon's gaze then, his eyes bright. 

Yes, they're on the same page. Spencer wants him, Brendon can tell.

"Come on," Spencer says, tossing the plastic Jell-O shot glasses into the back seats, where they'll probably spend the next year getting stepped on every time Spencer drives any of them anywhere. "Let's party like it's October 31st."

"Right on," Brendon says, and grins. "Onward, bride of Frankenstein, onward. To the alcohol table!"

—//—

"What _are_ you wearing?" Regan asks a while later, as Brendon sprawls across the couch with his feet in Spencer's lap, clutching a red cup half-full of punch. Whatever is in this punch is fucking noxious; it's awesome. 

Regan is Brendon's roommate Shane's girlfriend, and pretty cool because of that, but she's also in Brendon's gender studies class, and totally fucking awesome. It's turned out that she's a lot of fun, the perfect person to hang out with all day at the apartment, _and_ an excellent person to go to the library with. If Brendon wasn't busy trying to woo Spencer with no underwear and orange hot pants, he'd totally monopolize Regan's time for the rest of the night. 

Spencer's fingers brush at Brendon's ankle, and Brendon thinks _so close so close so close almost_. He doesn't shift position so that he can curl into Spencer's side, even though he wants to. He's kind of comfortable where he is, plus they have the whole rest of the evening to turn to seduction. He's a totally seductive pumpkin. "I'm a slutty pumpkin," he tells Regan, sitting up so he can take a long gulp of his punch.

Regan makes a face. "Don't fucking say that." 

"Hey," Brendon says, holding up his hands. He splashes a bit of his punch on his leg, and manfully resists trying to curl up like a pretzel and lick it off. "I didn't say it, it's on the label."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees. "It's on the label." He leans in to pull the label out from the back of Brendon's collar. Brendon tilts his head forward, so that Spencer can catch at the label with his fingertips. It has the added benefit of letting Spencer touch him, which he does for slightly longer than is strictly necessary. Anticipation curls happily in Brendon's belly. "Fuck, it really does." 

"Told you." Brendon's quietly, happily drunk, so it doesn't matter that he shifts position so that he can lean into Spencer's side and slide his hand over Spencer's knee. The wedding dress is made of satin; it's smooth beneath his fingertips. The punch has made him brave enough to make his first move.

Spencer shoots him a glance, assessing, but he doesn't move away from Brendon's hand. The air in the room seems hotter, all of a sudden. 

"It's buying into this whole stupid patriarchy bullshit and reinforcing the idea that women can't be sexual beings without it being detrimental to their character," Regan says, poking Brendon in the shoulder. "Don't say it."

"I'm a guy," Brendon points out. "Not a girl."

"Yeah," Regan says, "and you know as well as I do that that's a girl's outfit, which is why it's called slutty in the first place. If it was an outfit for guys it'd be called sexy or horny or whatever. Something that isn't fucking negative as fuck."

"Rey, I love it when you swear," Shane says, coming over and wrapping his arms around Regan's waist as he slides into the space left between Regan and the end of the couch. He drops a kiss to her throat, making a big deal about it because he's come as a vampire. Regan's come as Buffy, though, and feigns stabbing him through the heart with a stake made of brown poster paper and a lot of tape.

"Stupid slutty pumpkins," Regan says, kind of drunkenly, still stabbing at Shane with her makeshift stake. "And the patriarchy. Fuck the patriarchy."

"Fuck the patriarchy," Brendon says, raising his cup. Some of it sloshes onto Spencer's wedding dress, leaving a purple stain. Brendon hopes that Spencer doesn't mind, but as it's hardly likely that Spencer's going to use his outfit for anything other than costume parties, Brendon doesn't care all that much. Although it is pretty sexy on Spencer. Maybe if he and Spencer get to have sex later, Spencer could leave it on. That's a nice thought. 

"Yeah," Spencer agrees, and he taps his cup against Brendon's, interrupting Brendon's very nice thoughts about sliding his hands up Spencer's legs with all that tulle and satin caught up around him. It turns out that Brendon has a previously unrealized kink for green bearded men in dresses. It's a little niche for the mainstream. "Fuck it."

Regan still looks pretty mad, though, and kind of upset, so Brendon leans past Spencer to slide his hand into Regan's. He can feel Spencer's warm breath against his cheek. "Sorry." 

"Fuck the patriarchy," Regan says again, but she manages a lopsided smile as she presses a kiss to his forehead. "Don't say it again. Women get judged enough as it is."

"Okay," he says, nodding up at Regan. "I guess that means that now I'm a horny pumpkin instead." He glances at Spencer, just for a moment. "A very horny pumpkin."

"Yeah?" Spencer says softly. 

Brendon sits back, just enough that he can meet his gaze. His mouth feels very, very dry. "Yeah," he says, equally quietly. He hopes that no one else can hear them over the noise of the party, because this feels like something private, just between the two of them. Regan and Shane are making out, so they're not paying attention anyway. 

Brendon moves his hand, just a little, just enough that it brushes Spencer's dick through his wedding dress.

Spencer's breath catches, and he wraps his hand around Brendon's wrist, holding him there. 

"Yeah?" Brendon asks. 

"Yeah," Spencer says, and doesn't let go.

They can't do anything right here, or right now; they're at a party, even if the room they're in is pretty low key and quiet in comparison to the rest of the house. Anyway, Brendon feels like he's getting off on the anticipation, with his hand just brushing Spencer's dick through a million layers of satin and tulle. When he looks down at himself, he can see the outline of his dick through his orange hot pants, and _fuck_. Everyone is going to know. 

Part of him just wants to stay here and bask in the build-up, because Spencer's breath is catching and his gaze is bright, and Brendon can tell that Spencer's getting hard. He's getting hard because of _him_ , and Brendon can't even try to put into words what that feels like. 

They're also in the middle of a room at a party, and this definitely isn't the right place for this. "Do you—" he asks softly, nodding towards the doorway. 

"Yeah." He raises his voice. "We need more drinks. Come with me, and help me pick."

Next to them, Shane pulls away from kissing Regan just to smirk at him. He is the absolute worst best friend in the world, and Brendon punches him in the arm just to make sure he knows. "Pay attention to your girlfriend," Brendon says, but he can't complain that much, because Spencer's urging him up and onto his feet, one hand to Brendon's hip. 

The kitchen is empty, which is probably because both the keg and the punch bowl are elsewhere. Pete's place is huge and falling to pieces and a fucking awesome place for parties. He's even been known to stage events here, local bands playing in each of the rooms, a ton of college kids paying a ten dollar Wentzfest entrance fee and bringing their own drinks. Pete had made a profit, and Brendon had taken a cut for working the door. Good times. 

It also means that Brendon knows his way around the place pretty well, and that he knows where Pete hides the drinks he's not offering out to his guests. 

"This way," Brendon says, ducking through a creaking doorway and into a pantry, where a solitary six pack of beer sits on a shelf next to some weird looking bottled drinks, two cans of soup and three bags of pasta. "So, uh. Hi."

"Hi," Spencer says, grinning like an idiot.

Brendon takes this as a very good sign. If he didn't, then he'd just be standing in a damp pantry dressed as a pumpkin with a green bearded man in a dress, which would just be plain weird, and nobody wants that. "Something to drink?"

"I'm not really thirsty," Spencer says, although he does lean past Brendon to try and read the label on a bottle of purple stuff that Brendon can't even try and put a name to. Pete genuinely does throw the best parties. "Blackberry liqueur and vodka?"

"Sounds like a winner," Brendon lies, because Spencer's hand is on Brendon's waist, and Brendon's kind of in love with him, and he doesn't care about any gross alcohol that even Pete won't drink. Pete once drank his own pee for a bet, so it's likely that whatever's gathering dust in the pantry is worse. 

"Yeah," Spencer says, and he's so close that he's pressing Brendon back against the pantry shelves. He smells like alcohol and aftershave, but overpowering all of that is the bottle of blackberry liqueur and vodka that Spencer's opened. It's pungent. He shoves Spencer's hand away.

"Fuck," Brendon tips his head back. He can feel himself starting to get hard. "Seriously, if we're not doing this tonight, you have to fucking stop. Like, _now."_

Spencer puts the bottle back down on the shelf behind Brendon, but doesn't move away. "You've got about five seconds to back the fuck out," he says, but he's grinning, and Brendon lets out a breath, "or I'm just going to kiss you. Just so you know."

Brendon doesn't wait five seconds. He tilts his chin up, cupping Spencer's face in his hands, and kisses him, just like that. 

Spencer makes a soft, sweet sound against his mouth and then kisses him back, wrapping his arms around Brendon's neck and sliding his knee in between Brendon's legs. 

The padded pumpkin outfit makes it hard to get close, and if it wasn't for the way Brendon was slowly falling apart, he'd laugh, but Spencer's pushing him back against the doorway and kissing him, hard.

It lasts a few seconds, nothing more, just enough to have them both pink-cheeked and breathless, pulling away and standing apart as someone comes into the kitchen, pushing past them to get to the stacks of Doritos on the windowsill that neither of them had noticed, nudging Brendon out of the way to get to the solitary six pack on the pantry shelves.

Brendon just stares at Spencer, biting his lip to keep from smiling too hard, because _fuck_. Fuck, that just happened, and Spencer's looking at him like he hung the fucking moon. No one's ever looked at Brendon like that before. 

"We didn't get drinks," Spencer says, finally, but he's laughing, and Brendon's laughing too, and they're reaching for each other, and then, just for a moment, Spencer's mouth is on his. 

_There isn't enough air in this room_ , Brendon thinks. 

Spencer slides his hand into Brendon's again, and Brendon squeezes, grip tight. When he leans in to kiss Brendon again, Brendon's ready for him, winding his arms around Spencer's neck and pulling him close. 

—//—

It's a while before they emerge, red-faced and a little ruffled from making out in the pantry. Brendon had hoped that nobody was going to notice, but when they get back to the living room, Shane and Dallon immediately start to sing _Do It For Our Country,_ which just goes to show that Brendon needs to confiscate the Grease 2 DVD as soon as he gets home. 

He needs new best friends as well. 

Spencer flops down onto the couch, layers of satin going everywhere. Shane's taken Brendon's spot on the couch, but Brendon tumbles down into the space between him and Spencer anyway, leaning his head on Shane's shoulder so that he can put his feet in Spencer's lap. 

Spencer strokes at his ankle with the pad of his thumb. He's just watching Brendon, and Brendon can't help but keep watching him right back, absent-mindedly joining in the conversation with Shane and Pete and Regan about _The Princess Bride_. It's another few minutes before he realizes that his hand is curved around Spencer's neck, fingers playing with the ends of Spencer's hair.

He tries to pull away, but Spencer shakes his head softly. "I like it."

Brendon looks at him, chewing on his lip. He's drunk, and he's liked Spencer for ages, and he really, really wants this. 

He thinks that Spencer might want it just as badly. 

"Okay, let's get this party started," Pete yells, interrupting Brendon's sexy staring competition with Spencer. He turns the stereo up to eleven, blaring out P!nk'sLet _'_ s _Get The Party Started_ at ear-splitting volume. It's not the first track Brendon's expecting, but he's drunk and wants to move, so he whoops, jumping to his feet. 

"Come on," he says, and he tangles his fingers into Spencer's. "Let's get this party started, Spence."

Spencer just snorts a laugh and lets Brendon drag him into the middle of the living room. P!nk is followed by Hanson, and then Brendon doesn't mean to start doing a routine to Backstreet Boys' _Everybody_ , although apparently Spencer doesn't mind playing follow the leader to Brendon's stupid moves. Brendon's too in love and too drunk to do anything but keep on leading, and everybody's laughing at them as they do Saturday Night Fever moves to the chorus and the Time Warp to the final verse. At the end, when the song bleeds into _All The Small Things_ , Brendon tumbles into Spencer's arms, sweaty and laughing. He presses a wet kiss to the corner of Spencer's mouth, and it isn't like he's never done that before, but tonight doesn't feel ordinary and Brendon can't help himself. 

Spencer kisses Brendon back, right there in the middle of Pete's living room, in front of everyone. 

Brendon's drunk, and in love, and it feels like they've been building up to this for so long that he can't imagine that there's anyone left on the planet who didn't know, but the confused murmurs around them seem to suggest otherwise. The cheers from their friends are loud enough to drown out the stereo, but Spencer just laughs and pulls away, ducking in for another quick kiss before grabbing Brendon's hand.

"Food," he says, laughing, and Brendon nods, agreeing without really knowing what he's agreeing to. He tries to ignore Regan and Shane, but they both clap him on the shoulder as he passes, so. Dallon's in the corner with Breezy, laughing at him, but he winks too. His roommates really are the best. 

He thinks Spencer might be better though. 

—//—

Brendon doesn't really know how he ends up in Pete's back yard with a tray of chicken wings and a monster bag of Christmas candy on the table next to him, with Spencer pressed up against him and mouthing at his neck.

He's covered in Spencer's face paint, pale green smeared all over his fingers and his pumpkin outfit and Spencer's dress. 

"It's non-toxic," Spencer tells him, but he's laughing, and running his fingers over Brendon's face. "Maybe we didn't plan this very well." 

Brendon just snorts. "I don't care," he says. "Want to mess you up." He drags his fingers over Spencer's skin.

"Okay." 

Brendon kisses him again, unable to help himself. It's chilly outside, but California is never _that_ cold, not in comparison to the Christmas he spent in Massachusetts with his Dad's Great Aunt that time. He's bare legged, and even the alcohol and Spencer kissing his neck isn't enough to stop the shivering. 

"Hey," he says. "Is this a thing that we're doing, now?"

Spencer makes a face. "I want to. Is it—"

"I've liked you since the first time I saw you." There's no point pretending. Anyway, he's drunk and it's almost Christmas, and he's spent most of the evening either staring at Spencer's mouth or kissing him, so it's hardly a secret. 

"Oh. Well. Me too."

"Good," Brendon says, and kisses him again. "How do you feel about having sex?"

"Huh. I feel—pretty positive about that."

"Awesome. What about, um. Riding me in the wedding dress?" It's an image that Brendon hasn't been able to put out of his head all night.

"I could get behind—no, sorry. On top of that."

Brendon dissolves into laughter. "Oh god."

"I've never blown anyone in a pumpkin outfit before."

"Let's not get naked," Brendon suggests. "Let's just see how much sex we can have while we're still dressed up."

Spencer considers it for a moment. "Amazing," he says finally. "That's amazing."

"I know," Brendon says. "Let's ditch this party and go back to my place. I know where Dallon keeps his candy, let's steal it all and have sex all night."

"Holy shit," Spencer says, shaking his head. "You're a criminal mastermind. How have we never done this before?" 

"I have no idea," Brendon says, but he's already leaning up to kiss him again, so he can't bring himself to care, anyway. 

—//—

"Oh my god," Spencer says. "This isn't a secret candy store, this is like an _actual_ candy store."

"I know, right?" Brendon has pulled the drawer out from underneath Dallon's bed to reveal bags and bags of candy. "I don't know whether he stockpiles it—"

"—in case of like, an apocalypse or something—"

"Can't be too careful. I don't know whether he likes stockpiling or just gets it cheap because it buys in bulk. He has like, twenty seven cans of soup in the kitchen too."

"Maybe he just likes soup."

"Who doesn't?"

"Good point," Spencer says. "How much can we take without him murdering us both?"

"I had to look at color swatches today for his wedding, so I think it's all fair game."

"Huh," Spencer says, and okay, his green face paint is mostly rubbed off now, but he is a grown man in a wedding dress, holding up a bag of gummy worms and a bag of Sour Patch Kids. It's weird how things work out.

"Do you want to come back to my room and have sex?" Brendon asks, as brightly as he can manage when he's got an erection and is dressed as a pumpkin.

Spencer's gaze flicks down to Brendon's crotch and back up again. "Okay," he says. "Are you going to make me take the dress off?"

"Are you going to make me take the pumpkin off?"

Spencer looks considering for a moment. "You think I can wear your hat?" 

Brendon had almost forgotten the little orange hat with the green stem that he'd perched jauntily on his head earlier. Those bobby pins he'd stolen from Regan really had worked well. "Sure."

—//—

The problem is, of course, that there really is quite a lot of material to move out of the way when one of you is in a stuffed pumpkin outfit and the other is in a wedding dress. It is potentially more problematic than Brendon had allowed for. 

"Just—I don't know. Hold the gusset to one side so I can blow you."

Spencer's wedding dress is unlaced at the back, but he hasn't taken it off, even as he kneels between Brendon's legs on the bed. He looks drunk and hot and like he wants Brendon just as much as Brendon wants _him_. 

"This is the most ridiculous sex that anyone has ever had,"

"Stop putting me off," Spencer says, but he laughs anyway, crawling closer so that he can kiss Brendon again. "I give awesome blowjobs, stop putting me off."

Brendon grins. "Stop blowing your own trumpet."

"I want to blow _your_ trumpet," Spencer grumbles, shifting back on the sheets so that he try and push the gusset of Brendon's pumpkin to one side. "Nice dick, by the way."

"Thanks," Brendon says. "It's hard because of you." 

"I figured." Spencer slides the bad of his thumb over the tip for a moment, considering. Then he ducks in and takes Brendon into his mouth, and _fuck_ , that's good. Brendon cries out without even meaning to, head tipping back against the pillows. 

"Don't stop."

Brendon assumes the grunt Spencer manages means, _I wouldn't dream of it_ , but he can't tell for certain. He slides his hands into Spencer's hair anyway, keeping them there as Spencer mouths at his dick. It's weird, being blown and trying to hold the hot pants to one side; after a minute he calls it a loss and shucks them off, congratulating himself for not kneeing Spencer in the face in the meantime. 

Spencer just grins and goes down on him for real after that. 

Holy shit. 

When he finally comes, Spencer swallows it down, every last bit, and then scoots up the bed to press a kiss to Brendon's mouth. 

Brendon, boneless, kisses him back. "Do that again," he suggests, even though he can't even face moving right now. 

"I'm pretty sure your dick isn't up for trying again just yet," Spencer tells him. He looks down at his wedding dress, all bunched up and a mess. "I think mine might be, though. You want to jerk me off?"

"Like nothing else on earth," Brendon says, and then tries to arrange them both so that Spencer's kneeling over him with the dress spread over them, and he can put his hand up Spencer's skirt and jack him off. 

It's like every dream he's never had (but should have) coming true all at once. 

"You don't have to give this dress back, or anything?" he asks, half way through. 

Spencer rolls his eyes, breathless as he presumably nears his own orgasm. "Is this the time?"

"I mean, I'm just saying. You should keep it, so you can ride me in it."

Spencer makes a choked-off, groaning kind of a noise, which Brendon likes to assume is a positive. 

"I like you in a dress, is what I'm saying," Brendon goes on. Spencer ducks down and covers Brendon's mouth with his own. 

"Shut up," he says, in between kisses, "and finish me off."

"Aye aye, Captain," Brendon says, and something flickers in Spencer's gaze that Brendon can't recognize, and then he comes, all over Brendon's fist and the inside of the dress. 

Brendon reminds himself to follow that line of enquiry up at some point. "We do get to do this again, right?" he asks, since that's kind of important. 

"Brendon," Spencer shakes his head, flopping down on the bed next to him. "I've been in love with you since the first time you showed me you could burp the alphabet, and play Jingle Bells with your armpit."

Brendon blushes a nice, fiery red. "That was the first week we met," he says. He's since learned that other people make friends in less noisy ways. He saves those tricks for after people remember his name, now.

"Yes," Spencer says patiently. "It was."

"Oh," Brendon says, and stares up at the ceiling. "So that's a yes, right?"

Spencer snorts. "Yes," he says, tugging Brendon closer for another kiss. "That's a yes."

"Good," Brendon says, and lets himself be kissed. 

[end]


End file.
